Posted February 10, 2011:

by Donald De Marco.

The aching tree
now stands
in snow-hushed silence.

Birds have long-since left
its tortured boughs.

Fallen leaves have fled
on wings of wind.

And the icy breath that whistles
through the branches

Is a terrifying sound
that chills the soul.

Yet the mask of death can be
a mask of life,

Whose renaissance begins
to gather strength

Within a form that shows
no sign of hope.

Sleep renews the soul
While the body rests.

God prepares our Spring
In Winter cold.

Reprinted with permission from Patches of God-Light, p. 47, Bernhardt Pub.


If you enjoy our articles, we ask you to please consider subscribing to the print edition of Restoration; it's only $10 a year, and will help us stay in print. Thanks, and God bless you!


Restoration Contents

Next article:
You Are Unique

Previous article:
The Shepherd's Flute



RSS 2.0RSS feed

Madonna House - A Training Centre for the Lay Apostolate